


Pumpkin Carving

by Ace of Spades (dejected_daydreams)



Series: Festival of the Lost [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Festival of the Lost, Forsaken spoilers, Halloween, Pumpkin carving, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:05:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dejected_daydreams/pseuds/Ace%20of%20Spades
Summary: You and Shiro bet on who can carve the best pumpkin. Pure, self-indulgent fluff.





	Pumpkin Carving

This year’s Festival of the Lost was the hardest one Shiro had yet. While all of the festivities were raging on, he found it hard for his mind not to wander to Cayde. No shining lanterns or silly masks could distract him from the true meaning of this event. Festival of the Lost had always been hard, sure. Nian, Lush, Andal, and other Hunters he had ran with had been mourned in their own times. But none of those could hit as hard as Cayde did. Amanda said to try and enjoy the festival, that’s what Cayde would have wanted. And so after a week of sulking and opting out of all events, he was trying. For Cayde.

 

You set a mug of dark hot cocoa in front of the exo, hoping to raise his spirits. His favorite, a taste ingrained from his months at the Iron Temple. He wrapped his fingers around the glass, heat seeping into the synthetic weave of his hands, which he was grateful for.

 

“Thanks,” he said in between sips, nostalgia kicking in. Those were the good days, where at least he had some of his crew left, and Cayde to brag to about his adventures far away from the tower. “Thought you were going to buy apple cider though?”

 

“I can get that some other time,” you shook your head. “Dark chocolate, it’s your favorite, right? Thought it’d cheer you up.” The last sentence you spoke in a hushed tone, scared to wake any of the sadness lingering in him from the past week. The edges of his plates perked slightly upwards, but not without a hint of mixed emotions. “Got the knives?” you asked, quickly reversing the subject to the task at hand.

 

“Always have a least five,” Shiro chuckled, spreading them across the table. Not the standard issue hunter knives, these had intricate, hand-carved designs on the hilts. Some were covered in traces of ivy and leaves, others cracked like the ridges on lightning, matching his arc. The curves of each blade were razor-fine, cleaned, polished and sharpened since his last bounty. 

 

“Well, at least we found one purpose for hunter knives,” you joked. A running theme amongst other classes that hunter knives could never beat out guns. Of course bladedancers could easily prove you wrong. Especially one at Shiro’s level.

 

“We really ought to patrol together sometime, my lady,” Shiro said. “Bet you couldn’t count the number of ways I can use them on one hand.” You smirk in response.

 

“Did you just say bet? Am I going to be able to hold you to this?” you ask. He snakes his free arm around your waist and tugs you closer, mouth plates mere centimeters from your ear.

 

“Only if you agree on it. But when I win, drinks are on you. And there’s also something else I want. You’re smart enough to guess it,” his voice lowers on the last part. You blush and can barely make out a coherent response.

 

“And if I win? Pizza is on you, and I get as many cuddles as I want,” you counter, and Shiro laughs.

 

“Yea, but I’m definitely winning this bet. But I’ll keep that in mind for next date night.” Shiro removes his arm from you, much to your dismay, and slides you a knife. “That was one of my first knives I got when I started taking assassination bounties. Has an easy cut, and made from my own schematics. Figure it’ll be the easiest one for you to use.” You pick up the knife, more determined than ever to prove him wrong that a non-hunter  _ can  _ use a knife after that subtle jab.

 

“Bring it, hunter. Bet I can carve the better pumpkin. Just because I’m not a hunter doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use one of these things.” Shiro raised the plate above his eye, clearly amused. 

 

“Oh? Is that a bet?” he mimicked.

 

“Yep! Winner gets to pick the movie we watch while we eat pizza and cuddle when I win the other bet.” Shiro carefully chooses his knife before he humors you with a response.

 

“Don’t get too cocky, my lady. You never saw the pumpkins I carved when Andal was around,” he said, but not without remembrance and memories coming back. He winced internally, but pushed it aside. Now was not the time. He had a bet to win. Carefully and precisely, he began to etch out teeth and beady eyes on the pumpkin, not making any final cuts quite yet.

 

And, wait, how do you hold a hunter knife? You glanced aside at Shiro, not turning your head entirely so he wouldn’t figure out that you had no clue what you were doing. You had too much pride for that. But being perceptive, he picked up the slight awkward shifts in your face from his peripherals. “No copying,” he muttered, completely focused in on his work. You scowled, still trying to grip it properly. In the end, you opted to hold it with your fist, nothing fancy.

 

Attempting to make your first cut, you tried to follow Shiro’s motions. His knife easily glided through the pumpkin, and his corners were neat and sharp. You tried to push the knife into the pumpkin. Not as easy as Shiro made it look. Applying a bit more pressure, you went for it again. It barely made an indent. “I thought this was supposed to be a good knife!” you complained. He looked at you, impatience and anger all over your face, and he tried to hold back laughter.

 

“I guess I can help you, if you insist,” Shiro said, getting out of his chair. Standing behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other over your hand, he moved your fingers with his. “First of all, hold it like this, not with your entire fist. You don’t need to be that tense. And put a little more muscle into it,” he said, synthetic biceps tensing around your shoulder as he helped you make a cut. What you wouldn’t give to feel that in bed right now.

 

Right. That was for another time. Perhaps after you won your bet. “Think you can get it now?” he asks teasingly.

 

“Obviously,” you reply stubbornly. With the initial incision, you’re able to get the rest in easier. You’re almost as focused as Shiro now, intent on winning this bet, only stopping on occasion to take a sip of hot cocoa. Not even bothering to look at Shiro’s creation, you keep working, dead-set on finishing it faster and better than him.

 

As you move along though, things aren’t turning out quite the way you expected them to. Corners that were meant to be sharp were round, lines meant to be straight were jagged, and  _ wow _ , that does not look like an Ahamkara. But how much better could Shiro’s be? He wasn’t artistic, as far as you were concerned.

 

But being much like any other bet you make with the hunter, boy were you on the losing end. Glancing at his pumpkin, you realize he wasn’t kidding when he talked about the pumpkin carving he did centuries ago. Clearly recognizable as Dreg, it had disgusting teeth that were perfectly accurate to a Fallen, and would have been a winning entry to the carving contest the Vanguard held several days ago. He set down his knife, and eyeing your pumpkin, it was clear his thoughts were,  _ what the hell went wrong? _

 

Shiro clears his throat to catch your attention. “So, about that movie. I pick something action,” he said, eyes still trained on your pumpkin. “Also, uh, sweetheart? What is that, exactly?” You look down, defeated face deeply contrasting your previous cocky attitude.

 

“It’s an Ahamkara… Well, it’s supposed to be,” you mutter. Shiro takes a deep breath, thinking of his next words carefully.

 

“I mean, I can kinda see it in the… yea,” he said, trying to be uplifting. It doesn’t work out though, and he resorts to laughter, making you even more discouraged.

 

“I know, I know. You win,” you said, eyes on the ground. Maybe he’s gone a little too far with the laughter, and he realizes it by how crushed your expression is. Shiro quickly takes you in his arms, pressing his mouth plates against your forehead. 

 

“Hey, don’t be upset. That’s the last thing Cayde would want us to be doing right now,” Shiro whispered, stroking your hair soothingly, fingers twirling the strands. “That’s why you wanted me to do this with you, right?” You nod, head buried in his chest. “Thank you. It did cheer me up. And for the record? I was only laughing because your pumpkin carving is adorable. So let’s go put them outside, okay?”

 

“But mine sucks,” you said, voice muffled by his clothing. “It shouldn’t be out there.”

 

“I bought candles to light them up. They’ll look nice glowing, trust me,” Shiro said, pleading with you. Sitting there for a moment, you contemplate on what you’d rather do, but there’s no way you can say no to the exo. Not when you were doing this whole pumpkin carving fiasco for him in the first place.

 

“Fine,” you said, and Shiro immediately rips away to grab the candles and lighter. You find it in yourself to laugh again at his excitement. Carrying both pumpkins in the crooks of your arms, you carry them out to the deck of your shared apartment. Shiro sets the candles inside, and hands you the lighter.

 

“You do the honors,” he says, and you let the flame burn bright, light pouring out of the crevices. You both stand back and admire your work. Shiro was right again. It’s hard to tell that your pumpkin was a disaster with the way the light cuts through the night. Suddenly, you find Shiro’s cloak wrapped around your shoulders, and his arm draws you in.

 

“Thanks for tonight. You never cease to impress me, Lady Guardian,” Shiro says. “There aren’t any pizza places open this late, but I can certainly give you cuddles, if you’re up to it.” And those are the only words needed to get your lips on his. He presses back and laughs through the kiss, picking you up for your next destination of the night.

 

Maybe losing a bet to Shiro wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> should have made a bet that if he lost he'd be the new vanguard
> 
> bring my baby back bungie
> 
> I am so sorry for this crap I wrote late at night


End file.
